The Loan
by shen summoner
Summary: In a magical world where Voldemort never rose to power, but the purebloods did, here comes a story about a community so shattered, that it requires women to put their bodies on loan to ensure the continuation of the magical species. Or, at least, the continuation of the family lines that matter. Hermione Granger is in the middle of it all, and Draco Malfoy is indebted to her.
1. Chapter 1

**THE LOAN**

preface

* * *

You know when you feel like it's all over? Like all hope is lost? Like the world's shattered to pieces right before your eyes, and you can't help but watch as it paves a way for your own destruction? That's what Hermione felt right now.

It had been going so great. For her, for Ron. She still remembered when it happened. She remembered it with a vivid clarity that frightened her.

They'd been lying on the rickety bed she'd fashioned for them at an old cottage by the countryside. Just the two of them, lounging about in blissful ignorance, butt-naked, happy. It was a much needed break that had arrived in workaholic Hermione Granger's life at the right time. A week away from work at the Ministry and stupid things like laundry and The Daily Prophet, was a week in heaven.

And then the letter had arrived. She'd held her lit cigarette aloft with one hand and clumsily opened up the paper, as the owl that had brought it to them pecked at her thigh, and Ron clasped her to him, running his fingers down her back, kissing her neck.

'What is it?' he'd asked, sucking at her shoulder.

She'd gone white.

And that had been the end.

Today, as she and the other "hopefuls" waited in line at the Ministry to be assigned their matching pair, she paused to view her reflection in the spotless marble floor.

Gaunt could be a word for it. But she would think that Angry described it better. It had been three months, now. She'd put up a fight. She'd filed complaints. She'd tried to hide. She'd tried to kill herself. None of it had worked.

So now, she waited. She waited, for her number to be called. She waited, for the impending doom. She waited, for her to be paired with the couple to whom her body would be loaned. She waited, for the beginning of the end.

-X-X-X-

 **A/N – This is an idea I've really wanted to explore for a while now. The chapters are obviously going to be longer. It's going to be a dark fic – perhaps traces of non-con – nothing rose-tinted about this one. It's exciting and I hope you guys stick around.**

 **I haven't given up on TMMM, just been really busy, and my laptop, too, started malfunctioning and was out of order for about three weeks. Hopefully, I should have that updated within this week.**

 **Leave a review to tell me what you think! I'd love some encouragement.**


	2. Chapter 2

**THE LOAN**

Chapter 1

* * *

Hermione tried thinking of flowers, but could only construe wilted ones. She tried thinking of books - they often left her satisfied - but could only fathom the disappointing ones. She tried thinking of people she loved, but fell short.

Didn't she love anyone? She certainly said the words often enough; they were familiar territory to her raspy tongue. She pondered over this, and many other things, like the expensive velveteen beret of the Ministry official who had asked those waiting to follow her into another room. She'd seen that exact same hat at Madam Malkin's. She'd picked it up and tried it on, and her reflection had assured her that it would be a good buy; as luck would have it, her pockets had revolted. Alas, the woes of the bourgeois. Alas, indeed.

The official had turned out to be just a paltry, insignificant little secretary, after all. Hermione wondered how she could afford a hat like that.

In fact, every worker at the Ministry of Magic seemed dressed to the nines, walking about in their pointed boots, click-clacking busily on the spotless marble floors as there was, indeed, a lot of bustling to be done, many dreams to be crushed, many rights to be taken away, and many lives to be destroyed.

Like dumb cattle, the women fortunate enough to have been called upon to evoke this noble deed were made to sit again, professional looking folders in their hands now, and Hermione snapped hers open without so much as a second thought. Why delay the inevitable?

She could've screamed. She could've laughed. She could've sworn that this was just another one of life's cruel jokes – an endless barrage of hurdles thrown her way, that only seemed to intensify in size as time flew her by.

The photo of a handsome couple stared back at her. She recognized them well enough. The man was rumoured the richest in wizarding Britain, the woman the prettiest. With the world under their footsteps and the sky at their disposal, she could only imagine how disappointed they'd been when they'd seen the undeserving womb which had been chosen for them.

She chuckled and rubbed her thumb against the tawdry cursive that blatantly screamed out the names of her owners. Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy.

She read out the address to the driver of the Knight Bus, who gave her a look of pity, and within a second, her turbulently ridden self was made to stand before the intimidating wrought iron doors to hell.

'Why, I never thought I'd see the day!' she muttered to herself, curtsying to the peacock that gawked at her insolently through the bars. 'Hello, to you, too, I do think your masters will be mighty pleased to see me. They will, if they want their heir. Although, perhaps, the quality of his carrier will not be to their satisfaction - what do you think?'

'I think that Ms. Granger should not spend her time talking to herself, it is rumoured to be quite the sign of insanity.'

She gasped, and came face to face with the man she was honouring with her superior genes and healthy uterus.

'I do hope the baby doesn't have your hair,' he pointed out with a polite look on his face, running a conscious hand over his own cautiously put together mane.

Alas, the woes of the bourgeois.

-X-X-X-

'This is going to be your room for the next…for however long it takes,' Draco Malfoy finished, gesturing towards a room grander than her entire apartment.

She nodded, trying not to look impressed with the Baroque style architecture that reeked of entitlement and good fortune. She definitely wasn't impressed with the way he wasn't impressed with her. Probably found her old, out-of-fashion robes dreary and miserable. He certainly wasn't impressed with the nonchalance she'd decided to display at everything. No "Ooh!" at the Grand Foyer, no "Incredible!" at the Sweeping Staircase, no gob smacked "Gosh!" at the Charming Chandelier, and certainly, no incredulous wonder at being granted such a boon as to provide the ever-important Malfoy family with an heir.

'If you need anything, ring that bell, by the bedside table, and a house-elf will be at your service.'

'I'm capable of fetching and carrying for myself, thank you,' she replied haughtily, moving to sit gingerly on the edge of the bed. She sank right in, and had to grip the bed sheet for support.

'Very well, then.' He snapped his fingers and a servile elf appeared, bowing to the floor in eternal gratitude.

'How shall Missy serve its kind Master?' it croaked, still very interested in having its nose get thoroughly acquainted with the wooden floorboards.

'I shall not need you to bring Ms. Granger's belongings upstairs, Missy, the madam says she is quite capable of fetching and carrying for herself.'

'But that cannot be! Missy is bound to serve her wonderful Master.'

'And as your Master,' Draco said, bitingly, 'I am ordering you to not bring her luggage up the stairs.'

'But…but I already did. Madam's bags are outside the room, I very much apologise.'

'Well then, you are to take them back down, and immediately so.'

Missy looked up, her wide eyes popping out of her emaciated face. 'Are – are you certain, Master Draco, I –'

'Oh, just do as he says,' Hermione snapped. 'And thank you,' she added.

Missy nodded and vanished with a resounding crack.

'The library is at your disposal,' Draco said, shoving his hands inside the pockets of his three-piece.

'Draco Malfoy in a suit,' Hermione spat out. 'Never thought I'd live to see the day.'

'Hermione Granger at my mercy,' he bit back forcefully. 'Never thought I'd live to see the day, but here we are.'

She snorted. 'Here we fucking are.'

'We don't have to make this hard.'

'Oh, you mean harder than it already is?' she asked, her mouth set in a firm line.

'I'll behave if you do,' he sighed.

'Well, I suppose it's a good thing I never really learnt how to,' she shrugged, lying back onto the alluring bed.

His eyes hardened. He stepped up to the side of the majestic four-post, and crouched down so that he was now eye-level with her. 'You'll learn. Oh, yes, you will.'

She stared back at him in a fearless stupor, and she blamed the solitary tear that escaped her blazing eye on the intense glaring-match that was occurring between them.

His nostrils flared at the offending drop, and he leapt up in a rush. 'The healer will be here tomorrow afternoon - sometime around twelve. You are expected to make your presence known in the living room on the first floor.' He started walking towards the door.

'Where's your wife? Didn't she have the decency to come out and greet me? I mean, I _am_ the mother of her unborn child,' Hermione laughed, turning onto her side so that she now lay facing his retreating back.

He stopped at the door and turned his head to look at her, then slammed the door behind him, leaving her to her thoughts and the room's superior furniture that she didn't know how to appreciate.

-X-X-X-

She sat before the mirror and brushed her hair, picking at the strands aimlessly. She wished to delay her meeting with the healer for as long as she could, but she knew it was for naught. She moved to go, when a thought struck her fancy.

The look on his face was worth it, she decided, as she leaned down to air-kiss his cheeks as greeting.

'Isn't that how you lot do it?' she whispered in his ear with her ruby-red lips which were quite the talk of the hour. 'You'll have to excuse me, I'm quite behind on my "how to behave like a pretentious arse" classes.'

He inhaled resentfully, and gripped her wrist, pulling her into the room he'd designated for the healer to see her in.

'Here she is, Healer Diddle, now perform your tests.' He pushed her onto a seat before a kind looking man of about fifty, whose graying hairs stuck out in all directions errantly, peaceful eyes sparkling behind gold-rimmed spectacles.

'Ms. Granger, I assume?' he asked, peering at her closely, looking her up and down.

'If I may answer, Master?' she replied, looking at Draco with narrowed eyes.

'Granger, please –'

'Well, I'm quite sure that Mr. Malfoy here has no qualms about you speaking, it is, of course, still a free country,' the healer interrupted, shooting Hermione a stern glare.

'If that's what everyone's calling it nowadays,' she replied, meeting the gaze of the doctor unflinchingly. 'Go on, then, perform your tests.'

'Mr. Malfoy, if you could so kindly wait outside,' the healer requested.

'Why?' he asked anxiously.

'Well, Malfoy, unless you're interested in my menstrual cycle and other such state of affairs, I don't see why you'd have any business here.'

'Right, of course,' he said apologetically, and stalked out of the room with a regal grace Hermione envied.

He waited outside for a while, then felt foolish for standing about consciously in his own home, and retreated to his private chambers until he was called for.

The healer found him a while later, in the parlour that was connected to his room, and Draco offered him a cup of tea which he eagerly accepted.

'How do you take your tea, Mr. Diddle, black or white?'

'White, please, with a spoonful of sugar. Yes, that's quite enough, thanks ever so much. I see that it's whiskey for you, though, eh, Mr. Malfoy?'

'So?' Draco enquired after he'd sipped at his tea for a leisurely two minutes.

'So?'

'I'm sorry, Healer Diddle, but I think you're mistaken if you think I've invited you to tea just to make chit-chat. I'm asking for results.'

'Oh, yes,' he replied, mortified. 'Well, as I've already said before, the Ministry is pairing women with couples on the basis of tests performed on their blood swatches, and, obviously, Ms. Granger's was the best fit for you and the missus. As evaluated by me just now, she's "suitable," certainly, but nowhere near healthy. She smokes, hardly eats anything substantial, and her alcohol intake is far above what you would expect of from a woman. That being said, however, it's nothing time won't heal, and, of course, once she's impregnated, she'll be sure to take good care of both herself and the baby.'

'Oh, I wouldn't count on it,' Draco muttered. He was surprised, to say the least – he'd never expected his prissy, swotty, uppity classmate to be a heavy drinker and smoker, but, then again, he hardly knew her.

'What was that?' the healer asked, his interest piqued.

'Nothing. Tell me, though, is she ready?'

'Ah, that does seem to be the question on everyone's tongues, nowadays. In a word, yes, but it takes a lot more than intercourse to ensure the fertilization of an egg, Mr. Malfoy.'

'I'm well aware, Diddle.'

'Well, then, you should also be aware that the young lady is currently ovulating.'

'Is that so?' Draco mused, raising a perfect brow, bringing his glass to his lips.

'You'll be pleased to know that I've mapped out an easy-to-understand chart on what times it will be best for it to take place – you can be sure that it will take a few tries at least – only the wildly lucky ones conceive on the first try. You can just hope.'

'I sure can,' Draco muttered, raising a glass to the man before him, before nursing it to himself pathetically.

-X-X-X-

 **A/N – Oh, I am in absolute love with this idea – yes, a kind of an adaptation of The Handmaid's Tale - albeit, an idea that's been around on the website for quite some time now.**

 **Many thanks to all those who read and reviewed – roon0, Guest, Rapidasher and swagatamalfoy.**

 **Guest, to answer your question and tend to your concerns, yes, it is an adaptation of Margaret Atwood's brilliant novel, but with a little twist for our protagonists. Without giving away much, I can only hope you'll stick around, if only to discover that perhaps you may be able to stomach it after all.**

 **Read and Review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**THE LOAN**

Chapter 2

* * *

 _Two months earlier_

'Don't you see the harm in this?' she shouted, slamming down the pamphlets that had reached her home last night. 'How is this not a gruesome example of a violation of everything we stand for?'

'Ms. Granger, I would request you to please lower your volume, the press are waiting outside.'

'Oh, to hell with the press, Minister – I have half a mind to give them a statement myself!'

'And your opinion matters because?'

Hermione's jaw dropped. 'My opinion matters because I am a free citizen, Minister Dolohov, and you would be better suited to remember that! This…this disgusting excuse for a law is essentially designed to take away all our freedom! You know what? I refuse. I refuse. You asked for my blood swab, and here's my answer. I refuse.'

'No one asked, Ms. Granger,' Dolohov replied disinterestedly. 'These are orders and resistance to them, as such, will be treated as a felony.'

'Oh, to hell with it! I don't care; you're not doing this sick experiment on my watch. And you most certainly aren't making me a guinea pig. If you think, for even one darned second-'

'The magical community is on the brink of extinction, Ms. Granger, and you're calling this an experiment? This is a desperate bid to save lives, and you know it.'

'The pureblood community is on the brink of extinction, Minister, there's a difference.'

'Is there, really?'

Hermione's eyes narrowed.

'Fuck you, Minister. My answer's final. I'm not having any part of this. I'm leaving. Tomorrow.'

'Then as of this moment, Ms. Granger, I am sorry, but I shall have to take you into custody. You can try running but you'll be an outlaw in every country, travelling without a Magical Visa - for you most certainly won't be granted one right now. It's pointless. Why put up a fight? You know what's happened to those who've tried to run away. Why want to be a part of that category?'

She'd apparated on the spot. Needless to say, it hadn't gone well.

-X-X-X-

Hermione Granger was lost. Just one day at the enormous mansion - and she was lost. She'd been wandering around with a bottle of whiskey in her hand. It was expensive and it tasted like crap. She'd always been more of a rum girl. But this was the only bottle she'd found in her room, and she'd made good use of the bottle service.

She'd set out with the motive of finding the library that Draco had said would be "at her disposal," but now, as she climbed up a staircase, for the life of her, she couldn't remember why she'd even walked out of her room in the first place. She missed her untidy apartment and she missed her stale bread and she missed her pathetic boyfriend. She MISSED everything. Ever since the law had been put into action, everything had changed. Everything that she knew about what she wanted to be and what she wanted to do had vanished into thin air. Poof.

She stumbled at the top step. Almost enough to send her tumbling down. But not quite. She trotted on, inebriated out of her wits, and stepped into an inconvenient grandfather clock. She couldn't help but giggle then – ever since she could remember, she'd wanted to own a grandfather clock. Now, the people who owned her owned one. It was ironic, and it made her want to cry.

'I guess we're buddies, huh?' she asked the clock, patting it on the side. It just ticked in response. She giggled a bit more, and set off again.

'Granger?'

'Aha! Just who I wanted to see. The man of the hour!'

'Are you drunk? Oh, for heaven's sake, you are.'

'It's your fault, you made me drunk.'

He raised an amused brow.

'Did I, now? Why, I didn't even know until now that Hermione Granger was allowed to drink. Quite the turn of events, let me assure you that.'

'Stop it,' she hissed, stepping close and jabbing a finger at his chest. 'I am not the person I was. You think your insults scare me? You fucking fool. You need me. Wasn't I supposed to be beneath you? Nothing but a fucking mudblood, am I right? Who's the mudblood now, Draco? The mother of your goddamn child?'

'Shut up,' he spat, grasping her finger in his fist and squeezing it fiercely. 'I told you that as long as you're living in my house, you're going to learn to behave yourself. And that,' he continued, twisting her finger painfully in his grasp, 'includes keeping your filthy thoughts to yourself. God, you're a foul mouthed imbecile. You think I like this? You think I like that I have to do this? We may be running out of time, Granger, but that doesn't mean I'm desperate to bed you for my child. I want to get this over with as soon as I can. These are orders and we're puppets. You get that? We're puppets and we do as they say.'

'Fine,' she said calmly, pulling her fingers out of his loosening grasp. 'Then get over with it.'

'What?'

'Don't pretend to be daft,' she said, turning around and clawing at the button at the nape of her neck. 'I know the healer's told you that I'm ovulating, so get this over with. Help me with the button.'

'You're drunk,' he whispered, stopping her fingers.

'As if any of this is going to be consensual,' she laughed darkly, prying open the difficult button at long last, letting the shirt that already hung lose on her gaunt frame hand lose. 'Bedroom? Or against the wall?'

'Jesus Christ, Granger, what the hell are these?' he breathed out, hovering a finger over what she knew were the countless scars decorating her back.

She rested her head against the wall before her, and did nothing but breathe for what seemed like a century. Then, the tears came, and along with her pride, they washed away her consciousness.

-X-X-X-

She awoke in an awkward position, her neck ached, and she felt like she'd been to purgatory and back.

The first thing she noticed was that the room she was currently in was a lot more pleasant than the one she'd woken up in the previous day. And the second thing was that she was not alone.

'If you're nearly done watching me, may I ask what I'm doing in your room? This is your room, I'm assuming?'

Draco chuckled, sitting up in his chair and fully pushing aside the Prophet. 'Good morning to you, too, Granger.'

'You got glasses,' she said groggily, sitting up, leaning against the headboard.

'So I did,' he hummed, touching them self-consciously.

No one spoke for a beat.

'I'm not going to compliment you by telling you they suit you.'

'Wouldn't dream of it,' he replied drily, turning his head to look out the window.

'Good. Because you look ghastly. Why am I in your room?'

'You had fallen asleep outside, my room was the closest.'

'You could've left me there.'

'Yes.'

'Then why didn't you?' she replied, moving out of the bed suddenly, clutching her head when the world swayed before her. 'Crap, my head.'

'You're quite the drunk,' he said, standing up to hand her a vial which she accepted with a dubious look on her face. 'And no, it's not poisoned.'

'Really? Crap, you'd got my hopes all high.'

'Are you normally this suicidal at eight in the morning?'

'You should see me at seven.'

'Charming.'

She smirked involuntarily, and brought up a hand to cover her mouth consciously, before taking a swig of the potion. 'Merlin, this is good. I feel better already.'

'It's a hangover potion imported from Australia, so, yes, it had better be good.'

'There you go,' she commented drily, moving towards the door. 'Two minutes in and you're rubbing your money in my face already.'

'A simple thank you would suffice, Hermione,' he said, emphasizing her name.

'Why are you doing this?' she said, taking deep breaths and running her hands through her hair. 'Stop being nice to me, I don't want your pity.'

'It's not pity - it's hospitality, surely a woman of your standing can tell the difference between the two.'

She swirled around and marched back to where he was standing.

'Don't talk to me about my standing – three months ago I was a free woman who worked at the Ministry, but now that that's been taken over by a couple of lunatics, it's all changed, so, no, Draco, I do NOT know the difference anymore.'

'Look, I'm just trying to-'

'I don't want your hospitality,' she spat out as if the word burned her tongue. 'I don't want your help, and I don't want your friendship. I. Don't. Want. It. All I want is for this nightmare to be over as soon as it possibly can, so tell me one thing, why didn't you come find me yesterday? I was waiting in my room; surely the Healer told you what a fruitful time you'd chanced upon? So humour me, Draco Malfoy, how you possibly think you can conceive an heir with you sitting in your fucking room, and me sitting in mine? I mean, it is quite possible, thanks to Muggles, but of course, the baby would then be born a squib, and that's the opposite of what you lot want to achieve, is it not?'

'You're crossing your limits, Granger, there –'

'I'm not finished! Then, when I find you, you refuse! I want to get out of here as soon as possible, and you refuse! I don't want to put up with your hospitality until you get in the mood to have sex! I'm sure you think it's beneath you, touching a mudblood, but tough luck, mate, because this mudblood is going to give you your healthy baby.

'I know what kind of sick game you're playing,' she continued. 'You want me here at your mercy for as long as you can, don't you? So that you and your wife can amuse yourselves?! Well, I won't have it. And where is she anyway? Does she not have the decency to come and show me her face – do I not deserve that? You tell me.'

Draco said nothing, simply stared at her for a moment, then stalked to her, invading her comfort zone.

'You were inebriated out of your wits, so pardon me if I thought against taking advantage of a woman who couldn't tell left from right. Pardon me for the shock that ran through my being when I saw what was on your back. Pardon me for having the decency to bring you back in here.'

'You were trying not to take advantage of me?! I'm in a situation where I'm getting paid for loaning my womb to you, and you were trying not to take advantage of me? Joke of the fucking century!'

His eyes hardened, and he rubbed his fingers on the bridge of nose. 'I don't have to put up with this. I can choose to throw you in some obscure little cellar. I can choose to force myself on you. But I'm choosing not to. I'm not that kind of person, and I didn't ask for any of this! Do I want a child? Gods, yes, more than anything in the goddamn world, yes - but not at the expense of this. You may think I'm a monster,' he whispered, breathing on her face, 'but I'm not and you're not going to provoke me into being one anytime soon.'

'Well, if you don't want this, then why am I even here?' she mumbled, stepping backwards to put some space between them. 'Send me back, then.'

'The law isn't just being forced upon the women, Granger, even those families who do not wish to participate in this godforsaken reproductive experiment are being coerced and showcased as willing members. We're dying out, and we're dying out fast – I'm sure you've done the research, you're the brightest witch of our age.'

She scoffed at that and clutched her head. 'Fat lot of good that's doing me, is it, now?'

'And, yes, as far as the numbers game is being taken into consideration, the Ministry is right – they've pretty much hit their bloody hammer on the nail. The magical race is falling apart, especially in England, and it's all because of the inbreeding. Pureblood women cannot conceive, and the ones who can – well, they're carrying squibs. It's all a probability thing, and it's not looking good for us. And while I am all for another solution, we're running out of time, and this is what our government has, unfortunately, selected for us, and all we can do is go along with it.'

'Without a fight?' she spat out superciliously, grimacing at him.

'You're the Gryffindor, and if I'm guessing right, those beauty spots on your back are from putting up a fight, are they not?'

She snorted at that, shrugging. 'I did what I could.'

'Look, about last night –'

'Can we not talk about it?' she winced. 'You could've been a lot worse, yes, but I think we're better off without this…chit-chat?'

'Agreed, yes,' Draco smiled, and she was taken aback, feeling proportionately more at ease around him, which lead her to say what she did next.

'Is it okay to ask about –'

'No.'

'Why?'

He sighed. 'It's a delicate situation.'

'Are you guys separated?' she asked, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt.

'No, it's a lot more complicated than that.'

No one spoke for a beat.

'Come on,' he said, then, ushering her out of his room into the sitting area that adjoined. 'Can I trust you?' he suddenly asked, when they reached a mahogany door.

'What?'

'What's inside that room has got to remain between the two of us - no one can know, is that right?'

She nodded mutely, her interests piqued at once, an unexplainable fear gripping her neck.

Because beyond that door, lay Astoria Malfoy, in the deepest sleep - perhaps never to awaken again.

-X-X-X-

 **A/N – Thank you to all those who read and review! (Happiness8000 and Rapidasher).**

 **Rapidasher – Well, laws like these are laws, so yes, they are "legal" but they're definitive violations of human rights. But, for the sake of the story, it's a law that's been passed, no matter how restrictive and toxic it may be. And in my opinion, no marriage law is technically "legal" too, they're all violations. This one is just a lot more serious and grim.**

 **Leave a review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**THE LOAN**

Chapter 3

* * *

Hermione sat by the large window that looked out onto a garden that reminded her of home. Not Hogwarts. She'd blossomed at that institution, been at the top of her class, but it had never exactly been home. Never home. Home to the bratty Pureblood kids who thrived under the cool shadow of the "special attention" showered on them, sure. But not to her. Never to her.

She was pulled out of her reverie when Draco passed her a cup of chamomile tea, something she'd begrudgingly agreed to after hearing the news he'd just delivered to her - anything to soothe her frayed nerves.

'Drink,' he instructed, unbuttoning the button holding his waistcoat together and gracefully sliding into the chair opposite her. 'You'll feel better.'

She raised her brows at that, and sipped at the piping hot liquid, sighing as it blazed a fiery trail down her throat.

'So, the condition isn't permanent, is it?' she enquired, gingerly placing the cup on the mahogany table before her.

'We don't know for sure,' he admitted, looking away, rubbing a thumb over the ring that sat proudly on his finger, embellished with the Malfoy crest. 'We haven't stopped treatment, obviously.'

'Treatment?'

'Hunting for a treatment,' he corrected himself. 'There's an entire team of highly qualified intellectuals – and myself – looking into the matter. We're trying to find a cure.'

'And how much time do you have?'

He said nothing for a beat, just stared right back into her hazel pools of curiosity and perhaps some concern with an unflinching resilience. 'I don't know,' he finally said.

'I'm sorry,' she said, then, and was even quite surprised to hear the words coming from her mouth. 'I'm sorry for prying too much,' she winced. Apologies had never been too easy for her. 'And I hope your wife gets better in no time.'

He nodded, and drained his cup in one long swallow, clearing his throat uncomfortably after he did so.

'Malfoy? If you don't mind me asking, what brought about her comatose condition? I mean, it's really quite rare for people in the wizarding world to enter into coma; it happens all the time with Muggles, not quite that often out here, though, and especially not for as long as eight months. How'd it happen?'

He rubbed a finger against the side of his forehead before shrugging. 'An unfortunate accident. We'd gone skiing in the Alps. She had a rather nasty fall. I wasn't around to cast a cushioning charm.'

'Well, I'm sure Astoria was capable enough of casting one herself, wasn't she?'

'People,' he interrupted rather sharply, shooting her a hard look. 'People lose their wits, Granger. Minds go blank. That's what happened to her.'

She set her mouth in a firm line, unsure of what to say next. It was obviously a very delicate subject for him, and she didn't really know how to approach it. She figured the best thing to do would be to leave him alone.

She took hold of her cup in one hand, wincing at how hot it was against her skin, much to Draco's amusement.

'You don't have to leave if you don't want to,' he replied politely, obviously catching on to what she was about to do next. 'I was about to set off on some business myself, so if you'll please excuse me.'

She nodded again, and sighed as he left, running her fingers through her hair. She sprang up, then, as a sudden thought struck her, and bounded out of the little room, hoping to catch Malfoy before he disappeared off to somewhere.

She'd just rounded the corner when she heard indignant muttering coming from a room, so she paused, and couldn't help but overhear what was said next.

'You heard the Master, Dumpy,' Missy, the house elf, croaked. 'Not a word about the Mistress's condition to Ms. Granger. Mistress hurt her head in a skiing accident. Remember that.'

Hermione's eyes widened but before she could say anything, a warm hand touched her shoulder, and she let out a yelp at the sudden contact.

'Looking for something, Ms. Granger?'

She turned and found herself face to face with Narcissa Malfoy.

'Oh, wow, Nar – I mean, Mrs. Malfoy, um, not really, I just –'

'Just happened to have lost your way?' the woman questioned, raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow so far up that Hermione was transfixed by its perfection.

'Miss Granger?'

'Oh! Um, not really,' Hermione replied hastily, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jeans.

'I see,' Narcissa replied disdainfully. 'Well, I think I've chanced upon you at an exceedingly wonderful time. I'm ready for breakfast, and I would like it if you joined me.'

'Breakfast? I'm not very hungry, actually, I –'

'Very well, then, I'll meet you in the dining room in ten minutes. Wash up a bit, won't you, dear?'

-X-X-X

'Ms. Granger, do you mind? The butter, please.'

They ate in silence after that, just the clinking of cutlery against plates, and Hermione moved the porridge in her bowl around, her eyes boring holes into the innocent dish.

'So, Ms. Granger, Draco told me you were quite the student at Hogwarts.'

Hermione looked up apprehensively, her face a mixture of surprise and distrust.

'Did he, now?' she finally said, as Draco drained his glass of water, loosening his tie.

'Why, yes, he's always had the nicest of things to say about you, haven't you, Draco?'

'Have you, Draco?' Hermione quipped, rubbing a finger at the base of her throat.

Draco raised an eyebrow at his mother, who shot him a calculated glare, before she reached for a glass of orange juice she pretended to be vastly interested in.

'Yes, um,' Draco said, uncomfortably. 'The nicest things. Always.'

Hermione snorted. 'Were these "nicest things" said before you made my teeth grow till the ground, or after?'

'Ms. Granger,' Narcissa interrupted. 'Children…make mistakes, I'm sure you don't hold anything against –'

'Sorry for the reality check, but children aren't the only ones who make mistakes, and my very presence here is proof of that. And as for holding anything against anyone, I assure you, Mrs. Malfoy, the Ministry cares a rat's arse about my personal opinions. So it wouldn't matter if your son was Hitler incarnate; I'd still be stuck here, and I still wouldn't have any choice but to do his bidding.'

'Look, Granger, no one's asking you to do my bidding-' Draco started saying, but was interrupted by the stern raise of his mother's hand.

'Yes,' she said, her eyes akin to cold, dark winter. 'Draco did tell me how stubborn you were. Well, dear girl, there's a difference between stubborn my stupid, and Hermione Granger, proclaimed brightest witch of her age, seems anything but the latter. Consider this meal the extension of an olive branch, Ms. Granger, an olive branch from the Malfoy family to you. The advantages, should you choose to accept, would be endless, even after your "job" here is done. Should you, however, make the grievous mistake of turning it down, you can rest assured that, well, you do want to be given the chance to actually hold your baby, don't you?'

Hermione gasped, and Draco winced.

'That being said, I also wouldn't go around the manor, eavesdropping, it is, after all, considered extremely rude, and you're just a guest. It would do you well to remember that.'

Draco furrowed his eyebrows at that, and opened his mouth to speak, but Hermione cut him to the chase.

'Dear Narcissa, you're as much a guest here as I am, or has your darling husband kicked you out of your country home for good? If yes, the least you could do is help with things around here...I don't know, maybe loan your womb to your son? After all, the fate of your bloodline depends upon it.'

'Why, you little –'

'Save it, you twat,' Hermione spat. 'I don't have to listen to this.'

She threw her plate to the side and jumped out of her seat, then saluted the older woman with her middle finger, and stalked away, just stopping at the door to say, 'Consider this my official declination of your olive branch.'

-X-X-X-

Hermione sank into the comforting grasp of the ottoman in her room, and swung her legs over to rest on the coffee table in front of it. She didn't know why, but as she'd been climbing up the stairs to her room after her little spat with Narcissa, and opening her door, she'd wanted nothing more than to see a letter lying on her bed. She certainly hadn't been prepared for the nothingness that smacked her in the face when she entered her room. She'd grimaced and proceeded to step into the shower fully clothed, a decision she regretted as soon as the water hit her body, but it had been too late then, and try as she did, she hadn't been able to move. She'd let the stream run over her in torrents, until she couldn't breathe, and shivering, she'd shucked off all her clothes, then walked back into her room, pausing before the full length mirror that adorned the wall facing her bed.

She'd sucked in her stomach and then released the breath she'd been holding in, before she inhaled deeply, and watched her belly expand. She'd held, then, and run a lingering hand over her abdomen, and a solitary tear had escaped her.

'Nobody cries for the mudblood,' she'd whispered then, and turned away from her reflection as if the very sight of herself burnt her eyes.

So she sat, in an oversized bathrobe that hung off her limp frame pathetically, clutching at her head in a desperate bid to drown the voices in her head. But the one she couldn't seemed to was Narcissa's, and suddenly, the threat of not being able to even hold her firstborn seemed very real; not a part of just any distant future, but a part of her distant future.

'Come in,' she croaked, when someone knocked at her door, and her eyes flitted up to see who it was.

'I've come to apologize,' he said, walking towards her seat with a sense of determination she'd never noticed in him before. 'She's my mother, yes, but she was out of line,' he concluded, standing by the little table, his hands shoved into the pockets of his charcoal trousers. 'And I'm sorry.'

She snorted at that, and moved her legs from the table, staring at the door he'd just shut.

'She's not going to bother you anymore,' he said, and she looked at him them.

'What, has she died?'

'Watch it,' he replied, curtly. 'She's gone back. And she will return, yes, but she will not speak to you again.'

Hermione nodded then, and got up to pour herself a glass of water.

'Could I have one, too?' he asked, oddly at ease, perching himself at her table.

'Your house,' she shrugged, and walked over to hand him his.

She remained silent as he drank half of what she'd given, and kept the glass next to him, clearing his throat.

'I poisoned that before giving it to you,' she said, simply, and watched in a sort of morbid fascination as he turned pale.

'Just kidding,' she whispered, shaking her head and crossing her arms. 'Although, I could have, you should really not be drinking anything I give you.'

He cracked a smile, then, and shrugged nonchalantly. 'You and I both know you're incapable of that.'

She scoffed, and made to move past him when he stopped her with a hand on her arm.

'I mean it, Granger,' he said softly, and the sunlight hit his eyes, which shone like a cluster of diamonds, and her heart ached. 'I really am sorry.'

She said nothing and he didn't demand an acceptance, but he didn't let go of her arm, and his thumb didn't stop brushing circles against her skin.

He stared, captivated by the gooseflesh that erupted in the wake of his touch, and she shut her eyes, waiting for it to stop.

'I'm still ovulating,' she suddenly said, and she didn't know why she said it – she could only think of the life she'd left behind and how much she wanted to go back home.

He looked at her then, retracting his hand, and she dropped her arms to the side, looking down at her toenails, making a mental note of the fact that they were in desperate need of a trim, and through the curtain of her hair around her face, she faintly registered him reaching for the tie that held her robe together, and her breath caught.

-X-X-X-

 **A/N – Really sorry for the late update, I had my finals, and they lasted for a MONTH!**

 **Thanks for the reviews! Leave another one! I'd love to know what you think.**


	5. Chapter 5

**THE LOAN**

Chapter 4

* * *

'What're you doing?' she asked, as his fingers reached the knot holding her bathrobe in place.

He sighed. 'To be honest…I don't know. I really, really don't know. All I know is that right now, you're sober, and so am I, and there's only one way to be done with this entire ordeal.'

She stepped back, and he retracted his hands.

'I shouldn't have brought up the ovulating thing, I guess,' she mumbled, unconsciously clutching at the material.

'Yeah, probably,' he groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. 'But you do know that we can't keep running away from it forever, right?'

'I know,' she whispered, pushing a wayward strand out of her eyes dejectedly.

'The sooner we're done, the sooner this nightmare is over,' he said, honestly.

'It's not a bloody cakewalk for me either, Malfoy, so don't you, for even one second, try to pretend that this is harder for you than it is for me.'

'I'm not, and if you just opened your eyes and really saw that, instead of judging me with whatever preconceived notion you've formed of me, you wouldn't be accusing me of anything.'

She walked back to where he sat, and bent, so she was eye-level with him.

'You're a Malfoy, probably one of the only few who actually have a say in how this society runs, and as much as I hate to admit this, maybe if you were actually doing something about it, none of us would be stuck in this situation.'

'No amount of money or power is going to change the fact that the magical community is on the brink of extinction, Granger. Every second baby is a squib, and if things proceed the way they have been until now, the probability of a baby being born with zero magical powers is going to become one hundred per cent. And I don't intend for that to happen.'

She scoffed in his face, straightening up, resting a hand on her hips. 'So they're all lies, then, hmm? You don't even care about any of this, as long as you get your magical heir. God, I should've known. I mean, all this fake sympathy, telling your mother off, or whatever, they're all just means to curry favour with me, isn't that right?'

His eyes hardened and he moved off the table, towering over her.

'I'd watch that tone if I were you, Granger. I do feel sorry for you, but you're not at liberty to forget that it's my roof under which you're so proudly standing, today. I'd remember that, if I were you.'

'I didn't ask for any of this,' she replied defiantly, clenching her hands into fists, her nails digging into her skin, drawing blood. 'I just want to go home.'

He took a step forward, and she swayed.

'Only one way for that,' he whispered in her ear, and she nodded.

'I'm going to count till three,' he said, taking deep, even breaths. 'You can choose to stop. Or you can choose to get a step closer to going home.'

She didn't ask him to.

-X-X-X-

She slept, after it was done, a deep, troubled sleep that shone through the crease in her forehead. She woke up to a haunting memory, one she'd consented to, and shuddered. It didn't help that he'd left her a cup of tea, and placed a long-lasting heating charm on it.

One glance at the clock told her she'd missed lunch, and she had no intentions of going down and facing him. That's when the small radio in the room caught her eye. It had been so long since she'd actually sat and done nothing but listen to music.

She hesitantly pressed the little switch, and shuddered as it sputtered to life in her hands. It was the program that played famous Muggle songs, something she'd personally adored. Finally, she'd naively thought back then, we must be moving on from our prejudice.

She recognised the melody that hit her ears instantly, and her knees buckled as she fell, her back hitting the bedpost.

' _I love that shirt you're wearing,' he said, pressing a chaste kiss against her lips. 'And you should do something about these, they're chapped,' he chuckled, as she elbowed him._

 _Their kiss grew more urgent as his roving hands traveled up her abdomen to toy with the buttons on her shirt._

' _Ronald,' she giggled, gasping for breath. 'We're in my parents' house.'_

' _Yes, and they won't be here for another hour,' he shut her up, parting the material to reveal a sensible cotton bra. 'Merlin, you're beautiful.'_

 _He quickly shucked off his shirt and pushed hers off her shoulders, pressing kisses to the skin he exposed. She turned her head to provide him better access, reaching out a hand to clasp the buckle of his belt._

' _Hermione, baby,' he whispered, licking her earlobe. 'I've been waiting for this a long time.'_

 _She sighed as he clamped his arms around her knees and hoisted her up in one swift motion, and never before had she been so thankful for Quidditch. He laid her on her childhood bed gently and climbed on top of her, claiming her lips once more, and she complied in sweet surrender, running her hands up and down the smooth expanse of his skin._

 _He sat up and skillfully popped open the button of her jeans, and she wriggled out of them gracelessly, not caring, because he was her best friend and she loved him, had always loved him. Their pants joined the heap of clothes on the floor as he worshipped her lovingly and she let him, because he was someone she could place all of her trust in._

' _Oh, shit, wait,' he suddenly said, bounding up off of her, pressing a quick peck upon her lips. 'I'll be right back.'_

 _She leaned on her elbows, wondering about what the hell he was up to, when he jogged back into the room, with a tape in his hand. He pulled open the door of her closet, fumbled around for a bit, and grinned triumphantly when he brandished a small player._

' _Ron?'_

' _It's our first time,' he explained, as if it was the simplest thing in the world, popping the cassette in. The song came on, and he ran back to her, kissing her with all he had. 'You've got to have music for the first time,' he whispered, and then they were one._

' _Just you and me,' he breathed out, pressing his face into her neck, puffs of hot air blowing against her skin._

' _And Sinatra,' she giggled, and he laughed, shoulders shaking with mirth, as he lifted his head off her neck and gazed deep into her eyes as he filled every inch of her with his very essence._

' _Have I ever told you how much I love you?' he asked, clasping their hands together._

' _No,' she breathed out, shakily, tears pooling at the corners of her eyes._

' _Well, I do.'_

She allowed herself to sob, then, gut-wrenching sobs, because she'd never feel his touch again - never have his love again.

-X-X-X-

 **A/N – Thank you to all those who read and review. It means the world to me. Rapidasher, hope your tests went well! Spyrals, thanks for your review!**

 **I think we all know where we went with this chapter. Hermione gave up a big part of herself, and it's one of the things that will further change her dynamic with Draco (joy, as if their conversation wasn't already stilted enough). I would also like to point out that their sex has not been described, not due to any graphic reason, but because when it is, it'll mean something.**

 **Thanks for sticking with me! If you've taken out time to read, please do take time to leave a review!**


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